


Patrick Bateman goes to Walgreen's

by sonosuke



Category: American Psycho - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Patrick is kind of homophobic in this but im a fag so dont worry about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonosuke/pseuds/sonosuke
Summary: I went to walgreens and couldnt find the q-tips so i wrote about patrick having a similar experience just for fun. Location based on a real street
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Patrick Bateman goes to Walgreen's

**Author's Note:**

> I went to walgreens and couldnt find the q-tips so i wrote about patrick having a similar experience just for fun. Location based on a real street

I walk into the Walgreen's on Brady street not really knowing what I want, but for some reason I keep thinking I can't walk out without purchasing a box of Q-tips. I browse the shelves and walk slow, though I am unable to focus. I read the signs above the aisles, but nothing strikes me as being a section I would find Q-tips in.

I walk through the aisles of the pharmacy section and nonchalantly drop a large bottle of 200 milligram Nuprin that I plan to shoplift into my wool Armani coat's pocket. I can't find the Q-tips.

Whitney Houston's The Greatest Love of All plays on the speakers, which calms me slightly, but my fists remain clenched. I can't find the Q-tips.

Finally, relief washes over me. I see boxes of name brand Q-tips on the end cap of the makeup aisle.

I decide despite my frustration at not finding them in an aisle, that it's good enough, and I move to the checkout. The faggy cashier is wearing a cheap broadcloth shirt with an embroidered 'W' in the shape of the Walgreen's logo above the breast pocket and khakis. I can't see his shoes. I place the box of Q-tips on the counter and he smiles at me.

"Find everything okay?" He asks with a lisp.

"Yes," I lie.

I remember the Nuprin in my pocket and feel a brief rush. I pay for the Q-tips with my platinum American Express card.

Walking out of the Walgreen's down Brady street, my gaze fixates on Dorsia and I spot what looks like Paul Owen, or maybe Hamilton Conway, coming out of a limo with a total hardbody I wish I knew the name of. They're too far away to tell what they're wearing, but I'm pretty sure that if it's Owen, he's wearing the same Armani coat I'm wearing. In fact I'm positive.

I suddenly feel enraged and start sprinting home screaming like a banshee with my coat flying behind me, the Nuprin bottle in my pocket rattling.


End file.
